Always, Always Have A Plan
by fire.is.catching
Summary: Just a really short one-shot. Percy, Annabeth, capture the flag, just a regular day at Camp Half Blood. How did Percy end up on top of the Ares cabin?


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**Welcome To Everyone, now I know this may be a little short, I may be tempted to add more in some way shape or form if you ask nicely. There is still an entire capture the flag story to be told.**

**Disclaimer: Why do we have these anyway? I don't own Percy Jackson or any related Characters or themes. Brilliance thy name is Rick Riordan**

**Read on my friends… **

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"Seaweed Brain!" Annabeth cried. She frowned, obviously he was not going to listen, therefore she would be better off to admit defeat to his stupidity.

She had tried countless times, to explain why the strategy she had perfected was better than his. Annabeth Chase had been resting and enjoying a quiet day at camp as she mentally prepared herself for the capture the flag game that night. Her strategy was brilliant if she did say so herself, she had crafted it and molded it to her whim like clay in the hands of an artist. She and Seaweed Brain had the upper-hand and were sure to thrash the hunters, the numerous times victory had slipped through their hands held no personal consequence now that she had mastered this plan.

Yet there she sat, enduring an endless bout of numb torture. Percy sat in front of her, and she watched as he carefully poured through her perfectly constructed plans. His glittery green eyes would squint ever-so-slightly, and his bowed head would lift, she knew what would come, another attempted blow to her intelligence. His pink lips would part and teeth as white as freshly fallen snow (not that Camp-Half Blood ever got any) would bite down onto the skin as he pointed out another "flaw" in her brilliant plan.

He criticized every minute detail, commenting her and there to which Annabeth would tell him, why he was wrong. She knew he wouldn't find any errors. The hours she had spent on were not conducive to errors, she was open to his opinions, but he wasn't looking for opinions he was looking for errors. After every correction she would sigh and point out that this was why she was the strategist and he was the battlefield leader. Every time he would admit defeat and go back to squinting at the plans. Annabeth would continue to ignore him, her ice cream wasn't going to eat itself. Her blonde curls would swing forward as she leaned her head in to take a bite. The cold, milky ice cream, rested on her tongue for just a second before she swallowed, she paused only to chew on the chocolate chips that floated in the vanilla flavor.

She had always admired sporks, they were perfect for ice cream. The semi-sharp plastic prongs would stick into the ice cream and the cup that was the spoon portion held it perfectly. They were also constructed out of bendy plastic which made them perfect for catapaults that would then be used to launch projectiles at the ignorant boy who sat in front of her.

"Annabeth these plans aren't going to work," Percy said. He looked straight into her stone cold eyes and one would be surprised he didn't flinch. A complete disregard for his fate, should he choose not to shut up was implemented on his face.

"Oh yah Seaweed Brain," Annabeth said. The sugary tone she began with was sickeningly bright in comparison to the hiss that completed her sentence, "and why is that?"

She had approximately three bites left of her delicious ice cream, so she could eat one now, throw the last one at the idiot, and then finish off her delicious treat in peace. That is before he threw her into the lake. This option was most favorable to Percy's predicament, Annabeth wasn't at all opposed to the idea of a swim.

The idiot blundered on completely unaware, of the scheme that had the cogs turning in her head.

"Well for one you're completely underestimating the hunters, they're faster than us, and there is no way the Apollo kids can out-shoot them. Thalia is going to slaughter us!" He really had no idea, or concept of what was coming to him.

"Seaweed Brain, Seaweed Brain, Seaweed Brain, you don't get it do you?" Annabeth shook her head in disapproval. "Connor and Travis will dump water there," Annabeth pointed to an X on her map.

Percy frowned but Annabeth ignored him and continued, "Max, who is The Apollo Cabin's fastest runner, will wait in that tree," Annabeth pointed again. "and then he will have a fair shot to shoot their attack party here," Annabeth pointed to a triangle near the creek.

Percy opened his mouth to argue, that the Hermes infamous twins would be seen but Annabeth beat him and finished, "With smoke arrows," she smirked at the last detail of her plan. It was an afterthought, but a move worthy of Athena.

"But what if they have two attack parties and that one is just a decoy?" he argued. He seriously thought he had outsmarted her, which Annabeth proved to be a false hope a moment later.

"Well duh, that's simple. Our defense party, which will be lead by you, will be on the creek line. You simply wash them away with an enormous wave...mostly you again, and bing bang boom no more attack party," Annabeth answered. She grinned sheepishly and brushed yet another way-ward curl out of her eyes.

"Nah Thalia will be expecting that, they're going to have someone there to take me out. Especially if they have the flag," poor naïve little Percy thought he found a hole, which of course he hadn't.

"Then we'll put the rest of the Hermes cabin there," she pointed to a spot right near the miniature green trident. "and then post a few more Apollo kids in the trees there to keep look out," she pointed again.

Annabeth crossed her arms and observed her styro-foam cup wryly. She lifted up her spork and licked off the remnants of her previous bite. She savored the taste without having to waste her projectile.

"Well you can't argue with that logic," Percy gave in.

_That's right Seaweed Brain of course you can't,_ Annabeth thought wryly as she watched him switch tactics before her eyes. He picked up another set of plans, these ones were covered in lines and larger X s. The offense plans. Annabeth wasn't having any of that though, those were the offense plans, and he was most certainly not, on offense.

"Seaweed Brain, I don't see why you need to look over the offense plan, you're on defense," Annabeth exclaimed. She was seriously getting sick of this and her icecream/projectile was beginning to melt.

"Who is captain of this team Annabeth?" he yelled. As he obviously implied that he was captain and he could do whatever he wanted.

"Uh me! Guess again Seaweed Brain," Annabeth mocked. The spork of doom as Annabeth had affectionately named it was becoming a more appealing option by the second.

"Oh yah," he responded. He grinned sheepishly, ruffled his hair, and turned back to the plans.  
"Are you quite done?" Annabeth asked. She was getting sick of the subtle questions being placed on her authority.

"Ahhh no," he paused but then as an afterthought added, "but this isn't going to work, the hunters will have their defense with knives at your throat right here. Especially if that is the expected location of the flag!" he finished looking proud of himself.

"Are you suggesting we won't be able to outrun them Seaweed Brain?? Annabeth glared and silently dared him to challenge her, with his irksome ways.

"That is exactly what I'm insinuating Wise Girl, we are dealing with immortal _hunters_," he challenged. His emphasis on the word hunters was both condescending and capable of implying the fear necessary for the term.

"Oh my gods! Seaweed Brain just used the word insinuating. Would someone give the idiot a laurel?" Annabeth teased. She clapped and mentally readied herself and her spork.

Percy growled and reached for his pocket where the pen known as riptide was kept. Annabeth readied the spork.

"FIRE!" she cried. A clump of white ice cream found its way into Percy's hair. It contrasted deeply with the midnight black, like a glowing full moon. But before Annabeth could admire her handiwork she was hit by a forceful wall of icy water.

The next thing she knew her styro-foam cup was filled with water and the rest of her delicious ice cream was washed away. A very drenched and very angry Annabeth was finding herself inconveniently soaked. She attempted to blow a soaked curl away from her eye, and then glared at the idiot sitting in front of her. Said idiot was miraculously dry and clutching her plans. Well at least he had saved those.

_How considerate_, she mocked to herself. He was laughing. Little did he know that this would be his fatal mistake. Checkmate for Annabeth.

"Checkmate," she whispered under her breath.

"What was that oh-wet-one?" Percy smirked.

"Oh nothing, Seaweed Brain," she said.

Before he could blink she was gone. One moment she was there, glaring at him her long curls dripping from where they lay plastered across her face, the next she had her hand above her head in a wave before she vanished. That's about when she moved. The pen sword in Percy's pocket was gone. Ropes wound around his ankles and wrists. A floating roll of duct tape, two feet away from his head was suddenly winding itself around his mouth. No one heard him scream.

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Percy Jackson now sat swearing profusely on top of the Ares cabin in a ballerina costume. Don't ask how he got there. Don't ask where Annabeth got the ballerina costume (though some Hermes campers take credit). And most definitely do ask what can I do oh great Annabeth, in order to never find myself in the same situation as that idiot Percy.

Here would be the point where an ordinary camper would say, the gods only know what he did to deserve such treatment. The Athena cabin who all stood admiring their sister's work, smirking would all say, only Annabeth would know. As Annabeth would say after all, Always, Always have a plan.

As Percy would say from that day forward, Never ever question Annabeth's plans. This of course would serve only to earn him a glare. Aforementioned glare would only make him edit his previous statement from Annabeth's plans to Annabeth's **brilliant **plans. A sarcastic and slightly condescending grin would creep across her face, because after all Annabeth always had a plan, and it only took one idiot, a ballerina costume, a few accommodating campers, a roll of duct tape, and of course a "spork of doom" to make them happen.

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**Hello Everyone, if you are here, you have reached the bottom of the edited version of this story. Congratulations, it has been fun. My pointless ramblings end here, and I won't debase myself to begging, but feel free to review.**

**Cheers**

**Lauren :)**


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